


Mama’s Perfect, Precious Weapon

by Ponderosa



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham (TV)
Genre: Canon Character of Color, Desperation Play, Dom/sub, F/F, Female Character of Color, Kink Meme, Mommy Kink, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 04:15:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2799206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ponderosa/pseuds/Ponderosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Baby,” Fish says, gentle tone coupled with gentler touches. “You’ve got to understand: Just because your body is busy doesn’t mean your pretty little head stops working.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mama’s Perfect, Precious Weapon

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this prompt](http://gothamkink.dreamwidth.org/551.html?thread=15399#cmt15399) on the kinkmeme: "Show me Liza earning it. All the debasement, bootlicking, worshipping. Watersports maybe?"

Downstairs, the club is hopping, a throw-back Cuban group pulling in double the numbers. Fish taps her finger along with the beat as she pages through her day calendar. It's been a busy week and next month is filling up quickly with more of the same. She’ll have to make it a point to check in on the waterside joints and see how the girls there are doing with the new management.

As to her own girl…. Well, Liza’s a quick study, but not when it comes to learning to sit still and bide her time. Fish endures the girl’s restless shifting for a good twenty minutes before neatly capping her pen and placing it to the left of her blotter at a precise angle.

“What have you been doing while I’ve been working, baby doll?”

Liza lifts her head off the crook of her arm, schooling her expression towards neutral. “Nothing,” she says. She unfolds her legs and sits up straight in the cushioned chair. Her knees stay together, not quite casually proper but it’s an improvement. “Waiting, I guess.”

“Waiting,” Fish replies, lacing her voice with disdain.

“What else is there to do? You told me I had to stay in here.”

The girl is young, Fish reminds herself. “Come here,” she says, and when Liza stands, a quick snap gets her sinking to her knees. She crawls liquid and catlike, hip brushing Fish’s desk as she approaches. She knows the drill and settles with her face against Fish’s thigh. Her lashes tremble at the touch of nails across her face, and her mouth falls open. “Baby,” Fish says, gentle tone coupled with gentler touches. “You’ve got to understand: Just because your body is busy doesn’t mean your pretty little head stops working.”

Liza’s tongue meets Fish’s finger, bathing it in soft little licks before her mouth closes around the tip. This is where she needs the least amount of training, though the way she looks up through her lashes belongs in a brothel or on a pole. Fish slides her finger free, wipes the spit on Liza’s cheek and turns the girl's face upward. Fish smiles at her and asks, “Have you ever had a man pursue you, coax you with sweet words and promises, only to end up on top of you, sweaty and grunting and not doing a damn thing to give you even the least bit of pleasure?”

“Yes, mama.”

“And what were you thinking while that pig got his rocks off between your legs?”

“How I-- How next time it would be different.”

“That’s my baby girl,” Fish says. She curves her finger, the point of her nail digging into the softness under Liza’s chin, making her strain to avoid the hurt. “So just because I told you to sit your ass down on that chair doesn’t mean you couldn’t have been doing something useful.” Fish stands and takes a step back, crossing her arms to silently let the girl know that she’s going to have to earn the next kind word. “You want to be somebody, you need to always be thinking about your future. So you get back in that chair, and you remember what it’s like to have a man fuck you and leave you wanting, and how much better next time will be when it’s you that’s got all the power.”

There’s a touch of rebellion in Liza’s eyes, just a hint of resentment that's begging for a spanking, but it’s gone before she dips her head and presses her lips to the top of Fish’s foot. She leaves a row of kisses all the way down to the wicked point toe of Fish’s snakeskin stilettos. Fish nudges her away and when Liza slinks back to the chair she perches in it like a lady.

Pointing to the camera tucked in the corner of the room as a warning to stay put, Fish leaves Liza to reflect on that little lesson. She checks her appearance in the mirror at the end of the hall, pleased at the way the matching snakeskin accents on her dress catch the lights. Gunmetal grey is certainly her color, she thinks, as she heads downstairs to hold court, taking a back corner booth where conversations can be had with a certain amount of privacy. Business takes a while, as it often does, but it’s all easy problems and good news. She’s in a fine mood when Butch comes around again.

“Who’s next?” she asks.

“That depends.” Butch leans down, voice pitched low as he says, “Your girl upstairs is looking a bit restless. I think she may need to use the ladies room.”

She waves away Butch’s concern. “Liza can wait. Who’s next?”

“The Greek.”

“Send her over, and tell the new boy to bring us a Riesling. The Greek has a fondness for sweet things.”

“I could send over the bottle _and_ send down the girl,” Butch teases, though he’s quick to retreat before Fish has reason to think he might be soft on Liza. He knows his place. Fish doesn’t truly trust him--the only person in this earth she does trust is her own dear mother--but he’s top of the list as far as underlings go and his loyalty runs deeper than most. When she takes her place as the next Don, Butch will be handsomely rewarded.

Fish greets the Greek warmly, clasping the woman’s hand in both of her own as she slips into the booth. There are no fangs in her smile, no poison pooling on her tongue. She likes the Greek almost as much as she likes Butch. Things with the Greek always go smoothly; the woman is smart yet lacks ambition, qualities that Fish appreciates greatly, particularly paired. She thinks briefly of Liza waiting for her--presumably being a good girl and doing as she’s told--and how it’s a good thing the girl isn’t as smart as the woman across from her. Too sharp a blade and Fish runs the risk of gutting herself and Falcone.

When Fish tires of the company almost an hour has gone by, lost in pleasant conversation and glasses of that very sweet, very good wine. Fish does the Greek the honor of escorting her back to the bar and extending an invitation to enjoy the house's hospitality for the rest of the evening--alone or with some company. It pays to be generous, Fish knows. She lingers at the bar for a moment, and when she’s certain the new boy knows his place, she exchanges a look with Butch that tells him she'll be upstairs and unavailable for some time.

Liza is a mess when Fish returns to her, wide-eyed and white-knuckled. The first words out of her mouth are, "Please, mama."

"What is it, baby?" Fish bends at the knee to put herself at eye level with Liza. She rubs the girl’s back. "Something the matter?"

"Please, I need to--" Liza squirms, her thighs pressing together and her hands flattening low on her belly. She doesn't seem to want to say it, as if that'll make the urgency causing her to squirm even worse. "Mama, I really need to go."

"Come along, let's go to the back." Fish keeps apartments here, nothing fancy to her but a dream for little Liza. She steers the girl down the hall, steady and patient when Liza has to pause and twist to keep from wetting herself where cameras can see.

Liza makes a beeline for the attached bathroom, but with a snap and a command she freezes in place, her skirt rucked up and thumbs jammed into her panties ready to shove them down. She looks about to cry, her body hunching forward as if standing up straight will put too much strain on a bladder ready to burst.

Fish looks her up and down. The girl's nipples are peaked, showing through the thin black fabric of her top, and her belly quivers, tiny little ripples in the muscle taut beneath the flat strip of lace that edges her panties. As Fish watches, her fingers creep towards the outline of her cunt, not with any smoky-eyed pretense but to press there and pray that she can hold it. 

"Take off your shoes.”

Liza slips out of her heels, her toes curling against the tile floor, pale skin showing through the tips of her tights. They're ragged things that go to the thigh, torn and striped with runs, lined at the tops with no-slip rubber since they're too cheap to have clips. Fish will buy her new ones soon enough, but the girl needs to feel like she has some control as her life turns inside out.

"Into the tub."

"Mama, I can't wait any longer," she begs, but she gets into the claw foot tub anyway, gasping as she raises one leg over and into the tub. For a moment, she presses her crotch against the curved porcelain edge, but she makes it in without losing control. She stands there fidgeting, her skirt fallen halfway into place, pinned there by her hand clutching over her mons.

"That's my sweet girl," Fish says, coming close enough to touch her again. She runs her hands over Liza's shoulders, an invisible tremor seizing her own belly as her hands drift to brush the undersides of Liza's breasts. "Look at you," she says, hands coming up to cup them lightly, feel the soft weight of them. "You're going to be a woman some day."

"I can't wait," Liza says, and now she sounds like she's going to cry. "Please don't make me."

Fish gives Liza's tits a little jiggle. Later maybe she'll play with them more, slick them up with a bit of oil and tease those puffy pink nipples for hours until they’re tight and tender and Liza’s shedding real tears. "Little girls listen to their mothers," she says, touching as she wants, pinching here and there. "You keep holding it as long as you can, sweetheart. That’s all mama’s asking of you."

"I'm trying, mama." She sounds so earnest, so sincere, that when her legs start to shake and she moans it makes Fish truly forgive her for being such an insufferable brat half the time.

Fish pulls Liza's hand away from its protective clutching, and she unzips Liza's skirt slowly. inching it down to reveal a dark spot at the front of Liza's panties.

"Did you leak, baby doll?"

Liza’s teeth scrape across her fat bottom lip, taking away the last of the gloss clinging there. "Only a little."

Fish lets the skirt fall to the floor of the tub where it settles like a spill of ink. "Let me see," she says, touching Liza high on the inside of her thigh, fingers pressing into her flesh to indent it like the tops of those cheap ratty tights. "Oh honey, you wet your panties through."

Another hard tremor runs through Liza's legs, and she chokes on a sound as the wet patch spreads under Fish's scrutiny. A glisten of moisture smears between her legs, a trickle as wet as Fish herself feels right now.

“What ever am I going to do with you?” Fish clucks her tongue as she turns to the sink, stripping her bracelets off and leaving them near the taps. She slides her heels off, one and then the other, leaving them standing neatly side by side near the scatter of Liza’s. Then, her dress, and finally her underwear, all of it left folded in a tidy pile while in her peripheral Liza writhes, her legs shaking hard enough to make her tits bounce. “Scoot over, baby girl, make some room for your mama.”

Liza gives Fish space to step in beside her, but there’s a trickle down her thigh now, and she’s blushing red as a strawberry. Her lashes are wet to match, and she wipes away the tears before they fall with the back of her hand. Fish perches on the edge of the tub, her knees splaying as she gathers Liza to her, back to front.

“Crouch down, not all the way, just enough for mama to whisper to her baby,” Fish says, her hands lightly guiding. She lifts Liza’s blouse off over the girl’s head as she goes into an awkward half-crouch, her bottom snug near the hard ache of Fish’s clit. Liza shivers and lets out a tiny whimper, a near-broken sound that is not nearly as sweet as the ugly, choking gurgle when Fish slips arms around her, nails of one hand drawing lightly over Liza’s breasts while her other hand snaps at the lace waistband of Liza’s panties. She props her chin against Liza’s shoulder. “How badly do you need to go, sweetie?”

Liza’s legs swivel, draw tight together and then out again. “I can’t hold it. Really, I can’t.”

Fish gives the lace another snap, then presses her hand where it will make the pressure infinitely worse. Liza spasms and gasps, losing just a little more control before she manages to keep the leak from turning into an unstoppable rush. “You’ve said that so many times, I hardly know if you’re telling the truth.”

“Isn’t that good, mama? That you can’t tell when I’m lying or not?”

“Baby girl, it’s good, but it ain’t good enough. You’ve been lying all this time, and not on purpose.” Fish puts her lips to the long slope of Liza’s neck in a chaste scatter of kisses. She gives Liza’s tits another scratch before using that arm to hold her in place as the press of fingers low on her belly turn probing and cruel.

“Mama, I’m so sorry,” Liza cries, voice weak and babyish. “I’ll do better.”

“I know you will, beautiful. You’re behaving so well for your mama today.” Fish slips her hand into Liza’s damp panties, fingers dipping far enough down to find where she’s slippery and drenched from more than just her piss. She pulls her hand away, smears Liza’s belly wet as muscles quake desperately under the slide of her palm. “Your mama teaches you all kinds of things, doesn’t she?”

“Yes,” Liza says, and then her head is whipping forward, her knuckles on the edge of the tub on either side going white as she tries one last time to stop from wetting herself. This time she can’t, and Fish rubs her through her panties as they get soaked through and the piss starts running down the insides of her thighs, more and more of it, gathering in a puddle in the bottom of the tub and soaking into the skirt left near the drain.

“That’s it, honey, let it out,” Fish whispers, words interrupted by soft moans as each relieved jerk of Liza’s body makes her bottom rub between Fish’s legs. “Feels better now, doesn’t it? Feels so good you could cry. Let’s get these off you, sweetheart,” she says, and helps Liza drag her panties down and the tights with them.

When she’s standing naked and turned around to face Fish, she bites her lip again, hands going to cover herself as best she can as another stream of piss flows out of her, wets her legs and her fingers, her face so red it’s a miracle she doesn’t burst into flame.

“Done?” Fish asks, plucking at Liza’s wrists to get the girl to reveal herself again, her smooth slit gleaming.

Liza nods.

“You sure now?”

“Yes, mama.”

“Don’t be holding back now, girl. One last push to be certain.” And sure enough she’s got a little more to give. Fish praises her for it, gathers her in a little closer before pushing her to her kneel in the sodden mess of her soiled clothes.

“Now you take what your mama has, and then you show her how much you’re grateful for _all_ the things she’s doing for you in raising you up to be a woman.”

“Yes, mama.” Liza pushes her hair out of her face, not quite caring anymore about her wet hands. She holds them out cupped and waiting and she doesn’t flinch or make a face as Fish starts to piss. The hot stream of it arcs into Liza’s hands, and she rubs it into her front until her body shines, throat to cunt. This one is a lesson she’s learned, as is the whispered, “Thank you, mama,” before she shuffles closer and puts her mouth to work.

Fish pets Liza’s hair, slow strokes that match like a backbeat to the steady flicking of her tongue. They were going to have to do something about that color, lighten it up a few shades, maybe honey-gold instead of wheat so her complexion doesn’t seem so washed out. Dark hair on china skin isn’t the right kind of trap for Falcone.

Closing her eyes, Fish thinks about how damn perfect it will be to have the old man’s heart in a box. Her hands curl around the back of Liza’s skull, holding the girl in place as the fantasy playing out in her head turns gruesome enough to truly get her off, and she comes in mere moments, gasping and hard. She slides off the edge of the tub and sinks down to pull her baby against her breast. “Let’s clean up now, shall we, sweetie?” she says, stretching out a foot to nudge the stopper in and turn on the tap.

The water rushes out of the spigot, warming quickly, and Fish starts to hum a little tune as Liza thanks her again. The girl doesn’t try to kiss before she settles into the space given to her and starts to suckle.

Oh, she certainly is a quick study.

“That’s mama’s good little angel,” Fish says, stroking her back as the water rises. “Mama’s perfect, precious weapon.”


End file.
